Inglewood, California - Just moments after hearing the news of Oscar Mayer's death, Juan Rodriguez, a distraught employee at the Oscar Mayer Food Processing plant number 3 in Inglewood, California, stole the company's Oscar Mayer Weinermobile, taking it on a tributary joyride in honor of his fallen boss.

With the Los Angeles police department (LAPD), media helicopters and kids out of school for summer all in hot pursuit, the Wienermobile made its way down the 405 Freeway, then winding its way like a snake through the streets until Juan Rodriquez lost control of the novelty vehicle, crashing it into the giant doughnut at Randy's Donut Shop. Police were able to take him into custody without further incident.

"The LAPD had to call in the grief counselors," said Marie Sanchez, who works at the donut shop that was assaulted by the Wienermobile. "Because all the kids were crying. My boss was crying too. Her giant doughnut was damaged in the crash."

Police cordoned off the area, but as news of the incident quickly spread. Soon the crash sight drew a large crowd of spectators, curious onlookers and tourists.

"It looks like the frankfurter wagon was too thick to pass straight through," said Harman Gunter, a German tourist talking to his wife, Helen, as they stood in front of the accident scene taking pictures.

"Look Harman," said Helen, calling over her husband pointing out a spot in the wreckage that started to smoke. "It looks like they were using cheep oil, too."

As the Gunters giggled and snickered among themselves, the beeping sound of a tow truck backing up forced them to move aside.

"I've been a tow truck driver for twenty years," said Hank Ruben of "Hank's Towing". "And I've only seen one other incident like this. But that was involving a Giant Carpet Genie and a Giant Lumber Jack. Or was that the Michelin Tire Man and the Bob's Boy?"

As Hank hooked up a tow cable to the tail of the Wienermobile and got back into his truck, he struggled to dislodge the disabled vehicle from the giant doughnut hole.

"I know what it looked like," said Hank as he put his tow truck into first gear and then into reverse, repeatedly, causing the wiener mobile to move in and out of the giant doughnut hole. "But I couldn't help it. I had to rock the Wienermobile back-in-forth to get it to loosen up a bit. Man, I'm telling you. That giant doughnut hole was tight."

As the crowd swelled up to the hundreds and media helicopters circled above their heads, the LADP had to call a tactical alert. However, the response was delayed as dispatch thought it was a joke.

"Ha, ha. We get it," said dispatch in response to the request for police backup. "Cops calling for a tactical alert at a doughnut shop."

Among the whistles and jeering, the vacationing Gunters found themselves on a second honeymoon, as they were lost in a passionate embrace, their mouths, arms and legs interlocked with each other. Though no body noticed, as all eyes were fixated on the Wienermobile and the giant doughnut.

Soon the crowd broke into song singing: "Oh, I wish I was an Oscar Mayer Wiener."

As Hank finally broke the wiener mobile free from the giant doughnut hole, the crowd suddenly stopped singing, gasped and let out a prolonged sigh of relief. Then they pulled out cigarettes, smoked them and quickly dissipated without the assistance of the LAPD deploying additional manpower, canceling the tactical alert.

After a few hours passed, the only evidence of the accident that passed by was a Randy's fractured and slightly widened giant doughnut hole and spilt transmission fluid on the ground.

"You know what was very strange," said Marie Sanchez. "The next day we got a call, but no said a word on the other end. They just hunging up the telephone."